


Dinner at the Shibuyas

by Aella_Antiope



Series: Balance [7]
Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Angst, Friendship/Love, Future Fic, Homophobia, M/M, Polyfidelity, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, dubcon references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-07
Updated: 2011-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-21 03:27:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aella_Antiope/pseuds/Aella_Antiope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuuri takes Murata home to tell his family about the impending wedding.  Not everyone is happy.  Story set between <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/129419/chapters/183882">Balance</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/147416">Matrimony</a> in the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/5702">Balance Universe</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner at the Shibuyas

**Author's Note:**

> This was betaed by HARPG0. But all mistakes are mine.

Earlier - The Second Year of the Reign of the 27th Maou

“I want the truth. I want to know what happened.”

Lord von Bielefeld looked at him steadily, his face pale and his eyes haunted. Murata nodded.

It was a week after they had returned to Shin Makoku that Lord von Bielefeld came to visit the newly rebuilt temple.

Murata had been expecting it. He’d thought about approaching the young mazoku earlier, but, knowing Bielefeld’s pride, he had decided to wait. Besides, as much as he admired the fiercely opinionated young Lord, they were barely acquaintances. It wasn’t his place to ask. Murata was disappointed that nobody else had worked out his distress or had guessed the full implications of the possession by the corrupted Shinou.

Not really surprised, but still disappointed. Shori-san had given him little indication of what had happened. Though, he had spent enough time around Yuuri’s older brother – of course Shibuya would be oblivious and that was, all things considered, a good thing.

Shibuya was still very naive.

“I don’t think…I’m sure nothing happened. I’d know, but still, all that time. I was unclothed in his bed and I can’t remember a thing.”

“Did you ask Shibuya’s brother?” Murata asked gently.

Wolfram shook his head. “I did not want to think about it and he avoided me.” Wolfram fell silent and Murata knew that this was taking a lot out of him.

“I don’t know what happened, but I feel you should speak to Shinou. He may know.”

Wolfram nodded, seemingly unsurprised at Murata’s answer.

“And…Bielefeld, I won’t tell anyone. What is revealed here stays here.”

Besides, there was a possibility that Shinou wouldn’t even tell him.

Wolfram nodded grimly and went down to the main shrine.

Murata had to admire the young lord’s courage.

~***~

 

He didn’t know how long Bielefeld was in with Shinou. He had to go and see to some urgent matters so he didn’t see him leave. Surprisingly, it was Shinou who was the one to seek him out on the matter while he was working at his writing desk, later.

Shinou was unusually silent as he perched his tiny figure at the edge of the desk.

“The young Prince-Consort-to-be has no need to concern himself that he has broken faith with his betrothed. Not that he would have if the seduction had succeeded,” Shinou said shrugging. “But mortals place so much importance on these things. It would have been no fault of the young lord.”

“Ah,” Murata said. “I had hoped. I did want to believe the best of Shibuya Shori…but I have so little faith in people.”

“If Shibuya Shori had, then it would not have been any fault of his. He did not know that my descendent was being possessed,” Shinou said giving Murata an odd look.

Murata closed his eyes. “You are right, but he would have been breaking faith with his brother.”

“There is that, but I doubt that was a concern,” Shinou said. Murata gave him a questioning look. Though he wasn’t in the mood for games, it appeared Shinou really wasn’t, either – he seemed strangely reluctant. “It wasn’t for lack of trying. I was…very persuasive, plucking the natural charms of Bielefeld and using them well for seduction.”

“It wasn’t you anymore than it was Bielefeld. It was defilement for you both.”

Shinou shrugged. “It was a mercy that Soushou had no interest in keeping Bielefeld aware during the possession. Possibly, it would have been a distraction for the creature –because it _would_ have been a torment for the boy.”

There was a pause while they considered that possibility, of things that could have been, of things that could have happened. Of things that did happen. Shinou did not receive the same mercy. He was aware the entire time, but unable to fight Soushou, helpless. Murata knew any comfort he could give would be useless.

After a moment, Shinou spoke again.

“The king’s elder brother was very much paying attention to the pretty Bielefeld. Indeed, I think the fact that he did not act was more to do with human taboos than with the fact that it was his brother’s betrothed.”

Murata didn’t want to believe that was the truth. He had known Shori for years.

“Lord von Bielefeld said he was naked.”

“Ah, yes. As part of the seduction the second night, Soushou left him in Shibuya Shori’s bed before he retired. Shibuya Shori literally ran away, and the beautiful boy was left in his bed, abandoned by Soushou for a time for him to awaken there. Maybe that was deliberate cruelty. Nothing took place, other than the loss of Shibuya Shori’s peace of mind and some of Bielefeld’s self-assurance. I can understand a little of how Bielefeld feels, though. It has been a while,” Shinou said, giving Murata a sadly knowing look.

Murata took a deep breath. “Back then, Daikenja did not know, Shinou, I-”

“It matters not,” Shinou said quickly, waving his hand casually. “Some things are best forgotten. I should not have raised it. It was a different situation.”

There was another long and very uncomfortable pause. Murata would have been much more at ease with the usually bothersome and conceited Shinou instead of this quiet one raising difficult memories.

“Well,” Murata cleared his throat, “I suppose, it turned out as well as could be expected. The truth is best, all things considered.”

“And I’m sure it would not have been if things had turned out differently, my relativist Sage. Sometimes, deception can work just as well.” Shinou didn’t look at him as he added softly, “As it has before.”

Murata blinked, not liking the direction this conversation was heading. Both of them had done things that were ethically and morally reprehensible for the greater good. There was no point in going over it again. There was too much water under the bridge and Shinou was certainly stirring it up tonight.

Murata rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“Things have never been simple. But, in this life, I want only happiness for Shibuya and Bielefeld. It matters not if they marry. Bielefeld will always be important to the king. I will do what is necessary to keep them safe. I will do what Shibuya cannot.” Murata had something good to protect this time around, much more than plain survival and duty, and he would lie, manipulate, and kill to keep it that way if it became necessary. “I…am fond of both of them.”He added.

“I have noticed,” Shinou said mildly, _too_ mildly. Murata gave him a wary look and went back to work and studiously ignored the divinity for the rest of the night.

~***~

Eight Years Later

Wolfram sat on the back porch of Yuuri’s house in the early morning. It was spring in Yuuri’s world and the weather was perfect for the outdoors, not too hot or cool.

He took the opportunity to relax. Everything here was new, the sounds and the smells. Yet, the sun was pleasant on his skin and the sounds of the ‘caars’ and flying contraptions didn’t make him as nervous as it used to. The background noise of Mama Jennifer’s singing as she made breakfast was soothing. Every now and again, he could make out a Japanese word in her song. Love seemed to be the main theme.

Wolfram was trying to learn the language, leaving Anissina’s translator in his bag upstairs. Even before Murata had become a part of their family, Wolfram had wanted to learn, but recent events had given him new impetus. Yuuri slipped into his native language without thought when he spoke to Murata, and although Murata was good at steering the language back to mazoku when Wolfram was around, he wanted to understand, to be part of that secret world that Yuuri and Murata shared.

Wolfram hoped that learning his husband’s language of birth would give him insight into how Yuuri thought. Yuuri’s mind could be a huge mystery to Wolfram at times. And, logically, it was useful. Yuuri and Murata used the language as shorthand in public, a way to communicate without being overheard, by enemies, and sometimes by allies. No one native to Shin Makoku could possibly make sense of it except, possibly, Conrad, and Wolfram wasn’t sure how much his older brother knew. Conrad was reasonably fluent in the other major language in Yuuri’s world, inglish or inglesh...he knew only that much.

If only the words weren’t so difficult. Wolfram knew a number of languages, old high mazoku, a few of the dialects of the southern provinces, sign language used in battle, and even one or two of the human languages, but it was nothing like these alien words. All the languages in Shin Makoku had common roots, but Japanese was a struggle. It frustrated him. Wolfram was so used to picking up skills effortlessly, with learning, swordplay, and magic.

Wolfram sighed.

He heard Murata talk to Mama and Wolfram listened in to the basic greetings, only able to pick up vaguely on the following short conversation, something about food and sleep. It was much too early for the sage, but he’d been up early as well. In Shin Makoku, Yuuri was up at the crack of dawn--even before light in summer, no matter how late he had retired. But, on Earth, in his childhood home, he slept the morning away. Wolfram could not recall one time Yuuri had woken before him on Earth.

 _“Ohayou gozaimasu,”_ Murata said behind him, and Wolfram returned the greeting, trying not to wince at his own stilted pronunciation.

Murata was wearing a bright blue shirt with multi-coloured flowers, so different from his usual attire, casual with his hair down. Yuuri thought Murata’s Earth fashion was awful and said so often enough, but Wolfram liked the colours, though nothing could be as lovely as regal black.

They exchanged a few more polite homilies about sleep and the weather before Murata switched his tongue back to mazoku.

“You are improving,” said Murata as he sat down next to him with the Earth beverage, coffee, which Wolfram had not taken to and gave him a quick modest kiss on the cheek. Yuuri hadn’t told his parents yet. They had only arrived last night and Yuuri was going to announce his news to his parents later on, and to Shori when he visited from Switzerland tomorrow.

Wolfram wasn’t looking forward to the latter. Ever since he’d been possessed by corrupted Shinou, he’d had an awkward and, sometimes, hostile relationship with Yuuri’s brother. And he knew that Murata and Shori’s strange “friendship” was strained and their exchanges acerbic. Shori had no respect for the Great Sage’s position and, out of all of Yuuri’s family, his brother would have a greater understanding of _who_ Murata was, and his importance to Shin Makoku and advisor to Yuuri. He couldn’t imagine he would be happy about the marriage. Shori scarcely recognised him as Yuuri’s husband.

“I’ve been trying but it isn’t easy.” Wolfram stretched his arms out and sighed out loud.

“It is a very different language. You’d probably find it easier to learn German or English. They both have strong mazoku roots, influenced by the tribe that came through well over two thousand years ago Earth time. Japanese is purely Earth based.”

“Well, Shinou should have arranged for his soul to be born with that language, then,” he complained. Murata shrugged his shoulders and took another sip of his drink, unfazed by Wolfram’s outburst.

“We’ll pick up the lessons when we get home,” Murata replied pleasantly. Wolfram felt a little better. Murata was a good teacher, quite patient all things considered, and he did make the lessons enjoyable. Not to mention, the anatomy lessons had been very stimulating. “But, for now, this is a good opportunity. You should try to keep the translator off as much as possible. Immersion is a good way to learn a different language.”

“How many languages do you know?” Wolfram asked curiously.

Murata gave a short bark of laughter. “I have _no_ idea. I’d stopped counting a long time ago. I know all of the languages of Shin Makoku. I was classically educated in my first life with plenty of practice. I had about five lifetimes as Great Sage before I was sent to Earth. I had known many languages in this world, but I didn’t know Japanese until this life, and there are a few of the countries around here I’m not sure about. Korean, for instance, I only have a basic grasp.”

Wolfram knew that Korea was a neighbouring country of Japan, just like another country called China that was very powerful in the area. Apparently, there had been a war between China and Japan years ago, but Wolfram’s knowledge of Earth history was vague and based on what Yuuri had told him. Wolfram had a feeling that Yuuri didn’t know that much other than from what he learned from watching historical plays that were shown on the small boxes that were used as entertainment on Earth.

Yuuri never finished his education in his home country and had never been interested in anything other than outside activities like baseball. It had certainly been a challenge to teach him Shin Makoku history and diplomacy in the early years, driving Gwendal almost insane with his short attention span. There was an entire wall of plush knitted animals which attested to that.

Wolfram made a note to find out more about Earth history. Their war strategies could be useful to learn. Most humans were short-sighted and stupid, but somewhat sneaky when it came to the arts of war, relying on trickery and large numbers rather than honest skill in battle and had almost bested the mazoku a number of times. It was best to be prepared.

“Yuuri is still asleep?”

“Dead to the world.” Murata quirked one corner of his mouth up and placed his coffee down carefully next to him. In the distance, there was the sound of one of those ‘caars’ screeching, and Wolfram flinched, reminding himself that he was safe here from the metal contraptions.

“It’s going to be hard for him to tell his family,” Murata explained.

“How forbidden is it here with humans on Earth?” Wolfram asked. He had some idea from how nervous Yuuri had been the last few days, and from what Yuuri had said before about Earth human taboos. Men were not to marry other men. And men were certainly not to marry more than one man.

Part of that was true on Shin Makoku as well. The Maou Demon-King was the exception. For all the responsibility of Yuuri’s position, he was rewarded great privilege and it was practical for the monarch to have more than one spouse. Other mazoku had only one official partner, for the purpose of lineage, alliances, and property rights. But some mazoku had other lovers. Some were with the approval of their spouse and honourable, and others weren’t and showed a lack of respect to their official partner and their reputation. Wolfram _hated_ infidelity; disloyalty was something he rarely forgave.

“It’s even more taboo legally and morally in Yuuri’s country.” Murata pushed his glasses up.

A few years earlier, Wolfram would have protested that human laws mattered little, not compared to the superior civilization of Shin Makoku. Yuuri was mazoku and Demon King, not human; so, why should he care? It had frustrated him every time Yuuri had told him things were wrong according to his human upbringing. Slapping as a proposal was _wrong_. Duelling over honour was _wrong_. Boys being engaged with other boys was _wrong_. It always drove Wolfram to tears. Didn’t Yuuri understand that he wasn’t on Earth? That he was ruler of the finest kingdom in their world? They were protected by the Maou and Shinou; all other countries had been abandoned and disregarded by their insignificant gods!! How disrespectful! His love for Yuuri wasn’t _wrong_ , and Shin Makoku wasn’t _wrong_.

But he now knew that it did have an impact on Yuuri.

“I think Jennifer will be fine, but I don’t know about Shouma. I’m certain Shori-san will be…displeased.”

“ _Let_ him be,” Wolfram said softly in a dismissive tone. He had lowered his voice, even though Mama would not be able to understand what they were saying. “He’s not marrying you, Yuuri is.”

Murata put his hand on Wolfram’s shoulder lightly.

“Wolfram, please don’t make a scene if Shori-san insults you. It will be hard enough for Shibuya.”

“It’s not him insulting me that is my concern, but any insults towards Yuuri. Or you.” Murata smiled faintly. “I am a soldier and a prince. It would be remiss of me to let anyone besmirch the Great Sage and _my_ king.” Murata should understand that. He wasn’t a wimp like Yuuri. He looked down at the ground, “Or for anyone to insult my lovers.”

In Shin Makoku, he’d challenge anyone in a duel for less than some of the things he’d heard Shori say to Murata. True, their previous exchanges were often in barbed jest and Shori was heir to the Earth Demon King. But now, it was personal.

 _“Wolfram-“_

“I know.” He put his hand up in defeat. “I’ll try to behave.”

Wolfram could make no promises.

~***~

The next day, dinner was strained. Yuuri could hardly taste the curry. He was sure that Shori knew something was up. He was giving him and his parents suspicious looks.

Shori was opposite him, next to Murata who had placed himself between Wolfram and Shori. His mother was to his right and his father at the end of the table, trying to carry on with usual conversation.

Telling his parents yesterday had been blessedly easy. His stomach had been in knots as he stumbled a few times over the right words, but his mother was able to work it out and had squealed and covered Murata in kisses, then Wolfram. Murata had looked so calm, but the look in his eyes were pleased at his mother’s excitement and Wolfram was positively beaming.

His father had looked shaken initially, but had smiled weakly at his mother’s enthusiasm and, then, given him a short stiff hug as congratulation.

Perhaps, he should wait until after dinner but his stomach couldn’t take it anymore.

“Shori, I have something I wanted to tell you,” he started awkwardly.

Everyone stilled in the middle of eating. Their mother looked a little worried. Wolfram had a slight frown and Murata had a vaguely pleasant smile plastered on his face.

“I’m going to marry Murata. He’s going to be my second husband.” He cleared his throat. “There will be a state wedding and you’re invited.”

He gave his older brother a hopeful smile.

“You’re _joking_ ,” Shori laughed, though it sounded a little strained.

Everyone sat uncomfortably silent. Shori’s laugh petered off.

“You can’t… You’re married to _him_.” Shori gestured roughly in Wolfram’s direction, not even looking at the prince.

“It is permissible for me, as Maou, to take on more than one partner according to Shin Makoku law,” Yuuri said quietly.

Shori looked to Wolfram who glared at him in calm defiance. It was probably Wolfram’s look which finally convinced Shori.

His brother stood, cutlery scattering on the table, glaring down at Yuuri. “What the _hell_ , Yuuri. Murata…is, he’s _clearly_ a man. At least, I can understand with Wolfram. _He’s_ …. I know you can’t have children, Yuuri, but can’t you try to be _normal?_ ” There was hurt in Shori’s words, a sad pleading in his eyes.

“Shori!” Their mother reprimanded her eldest son crossly.

The anger that Yuuri had at his brother’s implications about Wolfram died.

Neither of them could have children. They were magically gifted half-breeds and for bizarre, genetic reasons, that made them sterile. Non-magical half-breeds were fertile, though. Any children they produced, whether with a mazoku or human, would have no more magical ability than they did.

It was the reason why it had taken until Yuuri’s gift had manifested before his parents had told them. It really didn’t upset Yuuri much, which at the time he had thought odd because he’d always taken for granted that he’d grow up and have children. This was even before he’d accepted Wolfram in his life. Perhaps, it was easier then, knowing he already had a daughter, or that his legacy would live with the changes he made as Demon King.

The few times he’d mentioned it, Wolfram had never seemed unhappy or disappointed. In fact, Wolfram had known even before Yuuri did. Such things were common knowledge in Shin Makoku.

For Yuuri, it wasn’t so important, not having his own biological children made his life no less rewarding. But Yuuri knew his brother had a harder time accepting it. Shori had wanted his own children, and he, sometimes, wondered if it was that infertility which had led to his succession of failed relationships with his girlfriends. On some level, Yuuri had a feeling that it wasn’t he who Shori was angry at.

Before he could counter, Wolfram responded angrily.

“ _Normal_ like you? Yuuri has a family who loves him. What do you _have_?” Wolfram’s voice cracked.

“Wolfram!” Yuuri said. But the next words out of Shori’s retaliatory mouth brought forth the fury of the Maou who was not impressed. Nor was Yuuri.

“If you can have another partner, why not a _real_ girl?” Clearly, Shori was reacting against Wolfram’s words but didn’t even acknowledge the prince as he spoke to Yuuri. “I know your _gay_ , pretty-boy princess here,” Shori gestured at Wolfram “spreads his legs and begs for it like a slut, like his _mother_ , but-”

“Shori!” Miko interjected in horror at the same time as Murata.

Yet, it was the Great Sage’s voice which got his older brother’s attention, a clear warning in Murata’s tone. There was a dangerous darkness in the Great Sage’s eyes, his lips curled up in a polite smile.

And Murata had placed a hand on Wolfram, possibly to stop the prince from killing Shori. Wolfram’s face was white and he was visibly trembling.

Murata’s eyes had pinned Shori frozen, and Yuuri knew there was no magic involved, just Murata’s menacing aura.

Throughout Shori’s diatribe, the Maou was demanding retribution for the slight against his mates and Yuuri had to use all his strength to suppress the power surging up. Yuuri’s hands were on the edge of the table, white-knuckled – _I’m going to punch him._ He informed the Maou…

And suddenly, startlingly, the Maou’s fury vanished. The abrupt absence of the fury threw Yuuri. The death grip he had on the table was the only thing that stopped him from toppling face first into the curry as momentary dizziness swept through him.

An apologetic calm emanated from the spirit. _There is no need for us to act. Our wise mate will deal with him,_ was the Maou’s rare direct voice in his head, certain. He focused on Murata. His aura was dark, but steady with resolve and taking a deep breath he decided to let it go, to trust Murata’s good judgment. And though his anger remained Yuuri was relieved. He didn’t want to talk to his brother while being so angry.

 _Next time, give me warning._ He grumbled inwardly as he let go of the table and the Maou sent him a mental shrug of remorse.

No one had noticed Yuuri’s struggle. All eyes were on Murata. Yuuri could literally feel the temperature lowering. Shori mouth closed.

“I _think_ we should talk…in private, older-brother-of-my- _fiancé_.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

Murata stood up and placed the chair back smoothly, he gestured towards the back sliding door.

Shori nodded, tight-lipped and walked out.

Murata followed and closed the sliding door behind him. Everyone sat quietly; there was tension. Wolfram still looked pale.

“Do you want some more curry, honey?” His mother asked Wolfram in a light-hearted voice that even Yuuri could tell was fake.

“No thank you, Mama.” Wolfram’s eyes didn’t meet anyone’s. As much as he wanted to comfort him, Yuuri knew it would hurt Wolf’s pride. He took a deep breath and swallowed the anger from before, heeding the Maou’s word to let Murata deal with his brother. It was easier that way. It was too difficult for Yuuri to consider it himself.

There was no noise from the backyard, no raised voices, nothing. Yuuri couldn’t even detect any magic. After about ten minutes according to the clock in the living room, although it seemed like an eternity, the sliding door opened and his brother stalked through, not looking at them or saying anything. He hurried up the stairs. There was the noise of a door slamming.

Murata walked through, closing the door behind him, a small, calm smile on his face.

“I’m sorry for the disruption,” Murata told them.

“Don’t be,” Shouma said, “I’m sorry for our son’s behaviour. We raised him to have better manners.”

“I don’t understand…he’s always been a good boy,” Yuuri’s mother trailed off sadly.

“I’m going to retire,” Wolfram said quietly.

“You sure you don’t want any more, Wolf-Chan?” Miko asked again.

“No, thank you, Mama. The food was delicious, but it has been a long day and I’m tired.”

~***~

Yuuri raised his hand to knock. He could hear his brother on his keyboard, typing feverishly, but hesitated and, after a moment, he put his hand down. Yuuri didn’t know what Murata had said to Shori, but it didn’t seem like it had made his brother any more accepting of his decision, and Yuuri couldn’t deal with that.

Yuuri’s main concern was his family, his husband. He could hear Murata talking to his mother downstairs as he helped her clean the dishes; both laughing over something. At least, his mother seemed to be thrilled about his wedding. He knew that would make Murata happy.

He leaned against the wall next to the railing and listened, his mother’s voice carried easily even over the background noise of the television which his father was watching.

“...I told him, that first time he brought you home, I said ‘Yuu-chan, Ken-chan is such a good boy, nice-looking and smart. Perhaps you should date him.’”

Yuuri suppressed a smirk. He remembered how embarrassed he’d been that day, horrified that his mother would ever suggest such a thing.

“Of course, he didn’t think that was a good idea. Ah, Ken-chan, Yuuri was such a stubborn child.  
Then, of course, he got married to Wolf-chan, who is the sweetest thing, and _so_ well-mannered. But now, Ken-chan with this engagement. I _knew_ I had the right idea. A mother just knows.”

Yuuri could not make out Murata’s softly spoken reply. He could imagine him wearing that silly pink frilly kitchen apron that his mother had kept aside for Murata since they were thirteen.

His mother made a squeal crossed with a giggle. Yuuri winced.

“I _know_ , and you’ll have to help me pick a dress, Ken-chan, tomorrow, maybe we could bring Wolf-chan too…"

He walked down to his room with a smile. All his fears about what his parents would think were silly. His mother had never been conventional. Her opinions, which always mortified him as a teenager, were now something he was thankful for.

Yuuri was fortunate. Murata hadn’t even visited his family while he was here, and he doubted he would. Murata didn’t have the connection he had with his parents. The rift he had with his brother was nothing in comparison.

Yuuri walked into his room. Wolfram was huddled on his childhood bed, up against the wall. The hunched way he held himself told Yuuri that his husband was awake. Wolfram sprawled when he slept, which is why he got the single bed to himself. Yuuri carefully walked over the futon that was down for himself and Murata. He slid in behind Wolfram and pulled him close. The bed was a tight fit for both of them.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said quietly, breathing into Wolfram’s soft hair. He took one long strand in one hand and rubbed his fingers along it sadly.

There was a pause and Wolfram turned in his arms, pressing their foreheads together, breath mingling. “The fault is not yours,” Wolfram said softly. “Your brother is vulgar and has no respect for you, as brother and king. I _cannot_ believe he is the crown heir on Earth. He _won’t_ be allowed at the wedding,” Wolfram added, as if Yuuri would disagree.

“You got no objection from me.” Yuuri didn’t think Shori would want to be there anyway, which was sad. Yuuri knew that few people would understand, certainly not Wolfram, but Shori was hurting over Yuuri’s decisions, and although Yuuri couldn’t understand why, not _entirely_ , he wished it didn’t cause such a rift between them. Time would, he hoped, bring some relief.

“Good.” Wolfram said, and held him tight.


End file.
